


The Marriage of Heaven and Hell

by Jennifer-Oksana (JenniferOksana)



Category: Angel: the Series
Genre: BDSM, Lingerie, Multi, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Season/Series 04, Smut, Spanking, Threesome - F/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-15
Updated: 2016-02-15
Packaged: 2018-05-20 19:48:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,190
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6022591
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JenniferOksana/pseuds/Jennifer-Oksana
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Psychological hang-ups and smut.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Marriage of Heaven and Hell

**Part One: Angel**

It’s almost like having Spike and Dru back.

Lilah has a smile on her face, the kind that she’s mastered from years and years of needing to be polite while wearing slightly uncomfortable cocktail dresses over fairly uncomfortable underwear and deeply painful shoes. The dress is red with a black lace overdress, something a tango dancer would wear. In fact, Angel is reminded of Darla now and of a gown she wore in Buenos Aires as she seduced the entire band without laying a single finger on anyone except Angelus.

Wes is clearly enthralled by the way Lilah looks, the hair pulled into a messy bun with wispy ringlets trailing down, a black choker hiding the beheading scar with a silver cross adorned with rubies and onyx hanging from it, the Cuban heel hose and the four-inch heels. They are dancing together and it speaks to how well-matched they truly are that Lilah has taught Wesley how to tango and not fall over his feet or trip or look ridiculous. When he dips her almost to the floor and her eyes flash, even Angel is drawn into the game, the passion with which she caresses his face when her body is slowly drawn upward. They’re real; they burn (and she is cold), and Angel wants to touch, to be drawn into the game.

And Angel, not being reticent by nature, walks behind Wesley and puts an arm around his waist. The living thing between the dead ones; the loved thing between the enemies and they both would kill and die again for his undivided attention. Wes easily relaxes into Angel’s embrace, but his hands are still in Lilah’s and he is smiling at her as if there was no third party involved. Wesley knows better than to choose between them, or if he doesn’t, maybe his star is protecting him from the perverse and hidden needs of the dead.

Angel sucks on a spot behind Wesley’s left ear and enjoys the feel of Wesley’s knees buckling. Lilah, not to be outdone, lets go of Wes’s hands, looks down at her beautiful and expensive dress, and with one tug, splits it in half. Calm as a cat, she steps out of it and kicks it to one side.

“Charming,” Angel says, nuzzling at Wes, enjoying the smell of warm and willing blood, pheromones that indicate that their boy is aroused and hungry for the touch.

“I’m not in the mood to dance around what’s on everyone’s mind,” Lilah half purrs as Wesley reaches for her naked hips and pulls her closer. “You didn’t come for bridge, Angel.”

“Not unless you can conjure up a fourth,” Angel murmurs, watching appreciatively as Wesley rocks against him and caresses Lilah’s bare skin until her eyes half-close.

“We could, you know,” Wes says. “Though I suspect Lilah’s no better at bridge than I am.”

“For all you know, I hustled cards to get through law school,” Lilah teases, her long fingers undoing Wesley’s bowtie. They had been at a tedious affair at a chic little gallery in West Hollywood, an opening or something equally inane. Angel had spent much of the first hour watching Wesley and Lilah play the power couple, something they did extremely well. Everyone knew that Wolfram and Hart Los Angeles relied deeply on Ms. Morgan and Mr. Pryce’s excellent taste, and Mr. Angel trusted their judgment implicitly.

The second hour, he’d amused himself by constantly distracting Wes and using that time to play with Lilah’s not-so-permanently-attached head. Half an hour into the game, she looked ready to attack him, but Wes, either out of diplomacy or hope that the evening would turn into what it has, stopped both of their gambits and spent the rest of the evening talking to a local politician both Angel and Lilah passionately loathed. When it appeared that Wes was going to make them spend time with him, Lilah had gotten suddenly and surprisingly light-headed, forcing Angel to take them home in the company limo.

Forcing being a relative term, as Lilah and Angel had both decided without actually deciding to…leave Wesley breathless on their way to Wes’s apartment by means of Lilah and Angel’s long wet grudge kiss in the back of the limo turning away from each other and toward Wes.

“You two PLOTTED this,” Wes accused as Angel squeezed him through his pants and Lilah kissed her way down his jaw.

“Does it bother you that we did?” Angel asked, looking up at him with the look he knew had worked on wills stronger than Wesley’s and licking his lower lip slowly.

“I — well, not as such,” Wes had to admit.

“Good,” Lilah cooed into Wesley’s ear. “Be a good boy and we’ll show you just where you get off.”

And now Lilah is slowly but inexorably removing the expensive white shirt, strangely focused as she undoes the buttons. Angel sometimes wonders how hard she has to work for fine motor control, remembering the way she stumbled when she was newly undead. What she feels when her fingertips brush against Wesley’s nipples and she stops to pull them between long red fingernails and *pinch* so that Wes gasps and squirms.

“Oh,” she murmurs roughly, eyes bright with lust as she looks Wesley up and down and spares a glance for Angel. “Would you look at that? I think we should call your tailor and have those pants adjusted.”

A smile crosses her feral face and Angel is reminded this is no kitten pulling Wes away to carefully remove his shirt and spend an idle moment worshipping his throat scar with her tongue before being drawn up for a harsh, passionate kiss where her knees are the ones in danger of giving out. Except that Angel, damned if he’ll be cut out by Lilah’s maneuver, is waiting to catch her, to undo the hooks of her strapless bra and toss it aside; to run his thumb down the perfect curve of her spine and follow it with his tongue so he can hear her whimper; and to pull her away from Wesley and press a kiss with the barest scrape of teeth into her unblemished shoulder.

“Like that?” he asks, using his free hand to cup her breast and squeeze. He can feel her nod vigorously.

“You can keep doing that all night,” says Lilah, sounding lightheaded and giddy.

“Oh, I think not,” Angel says, abruptly letting go of her and ignoring her tumble to her knees and the reproachful glance that earns from Wesley. “I think we’re neglecting Wes and **you** are being selfish.”

He can almost hear her eyes roll. “So?”

“So,” Angel says conversationally. “I think that you’re going to need some discipline.”

Lilah starts to cough, and Wesley, who was beginning to look bored, straightens up and stares at Angel as if he’s not sure he believes what he’s heard. Meanwhile, Lilah gets to her feet and turns to stare at Angel, the cross clinging to her sweat-tinged skin.

“Discipline, huh?” she asks, her pupils dilated and a dreamy hand on her throat. “Gonna show me how to be a good little girl?”

“As if anyone could,” Wes chimes in. Lilah turns her head to give him a pouty glare. “Love, you’ve said it yourself.”

“Be nice,” she chides, but in her fit of pique, Lilah has forgotten that Angel can move very, very quietly and Angel savor the gasp of fear when he pulls her arms back hard. “Angel…”

“You like to think you’re a bad girl, don’t you?” Angel asks so quietly that she has to strain to hear. “All the posturing, the attitude, the mockery. No one can get under your skin, can they? You’re Lilah Morgan, and you’re not afraid of anything.”

“Should I be afraid of you?” she retorts. “All you ever do is talk. And sometimes choke.”

“I’m tired of your control fetish,” Angel says, moving his lips close to her ear while twisting her wrists just hard enough to make it hurt. “I’m going to break you while he watches.”

“Fuck you, Angel,” she says. Predictable. She pushes and pushes and just when they’re about to get to the quality hurting, what Lilah seems to want, what Wesley seems to want, that all three of them are desperately angling toward, she twists the game so Angel can never win. “You want to play, play fair.”

Every time they fight, every time they play, she taunts him closer to his breaking point and Angel’s tired of being manipulated by someone as desperately and obviously in need of a good spanking as Lilah. This time, though, he’s not going to let her cheat. He lets her go again and walks to Wesley, dropping to his knees.

“Angel?” Wesley asks. “What are you doing?”

“What Lilah wants,” Angel replies. “She doesn’t want to be involved, so she’s not going to be. She can watch if she likes, or she can go do something else. I’m not interested in mind games tonight, Wes. If we’re going to play, it’s going to be with toys from that trunk in your closet that your grandfather gave to you. The one you didn’t think I knew about.”

Wes looks down at Angel and swallows, the faintest sheen of sweat beading up on his forehead. Angel doesn’t usually go on his knees, but desperate times call for desperate measures and the moan Wesley gives when Angel undoes Wesley’s pants suggests this might just be a round Angel wins.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Lilah says petulantly.

“Sit down, Lilah. Angel is perfectly right and you know it,” Wes says without raising his voice. Angel desperately envies the gift Wesley has with Lilah, the ability to shut her up at least temporarily. “If you’re going to be a spoilt brat, then you’re going to be sat in a corner until you can take what you’ve earned.”

“Well said,” Angel murmurs, easing down Wesley’s pants and boxers without missing a beat.

“Go to hell,” Lilah replies, sitting down on the leather couch. But her eyes don’t stop watching as Angel’s hand encircles Wesley’s erection and starts moving up and down the shaft. Her legs are crossed, her expression annoyed, but the tip of her tongue keeps wetting her lips and she hasn’t blinked yet.

Angel thinks that tonight might be the night where control is finally ceded. Then Angel decides that it’s unimportant because Wesley’s whole body is his and his alone right now and the selfish, angry bitch on the couch isn’t ruining this. Not this time.

“Tell me what you want, Wes,” Angel says, jerking him harder and enjoying the ragged intake of breath, the controlled, bitten-off moans he’s earning from Wesley’s rigid body. He expects to be ordered to suck Wesley’s cock or keep doing what he’s doing.

“Stand up,” Wes says hoarsely. Angel, temporarily releasing Wesley’s cock, does what the man asks, and Wesley, blue eyes bright, leans in and kisses him, his teeth scraping against Wesley’s. To Angel’s surprise, Wesley’s mouth presses against Angel’s neck, his ear, sucking and licking frantically. “I want you to tell me what to do, Angel. It’s what I’ve always wanted.”

The sound of Wesley’s voice, those lips of his trembling against Angel’s ear begging Angel to dominate him almost makes Angel forget everything, but Wesley looks very deliberately at the couch and Angel is even more pleased with this turn of events. Wes knows his lover all too well, and the idea that someone not her gets the enjoyment of Wesley to command is already making her twitch.

“You always wanted this?” Angel asks gently, letting a smile cross his face as he runs a hand over Wesley’s back, pausing at a spot just above his ass and holding it there. “Anything I want?”

“Anything,” Wesley says fervently, and Angel believes it as fully as he believes the tables have turned on Lilah and her machinations. Wes wants Angel to dominate him, to take away all his choices except to obey and be rewarded.

“Then we’re going to the bedroom,” Angel says decisively, not even bothering to look couch-ward. “You’ll choose cuffs and a whip and something else for me to use on you. You’ll set them on the floor and then you’ll wait. If I don’t like what you’ve chosen, I’m going to make it hurt.”

“And…” Wesley’s posture has softened and he looks apologetically toward Lilah, who must be absolutely livid by now.

Good.

“The original offer stands,” Angel says, still not looking at Lilah. “When she decides she wants to behave, she can join us.”

Wesley inclines his head and walks into the bedroom, leaving the door open. Angel follows him, pausing momentarily to hear Lilah’s reaction to being treated like she deserves.

There is a small hiss of breath, but otherwise, nothing. She’s playing hardball, playing with all her remaining will, which means Angel will enjoy it so much more when he and Wesley break her.

And they will. Tonight.

Together.

 

**Part Two: Wesley**

Angel on his knees before him had almost driven all rational thought from Wesley’s head. The idea that Angel was offering to suck him off, use that mouth of his on Wesley’s cock without any precondition was a powerful one, one that sent electric current up Wes’s spine and into his lust-drenched brain. But there had been Lilah, watching him with flat, blank eyes that revealed nothing of her true mood. She hadn’t looked disapproving or approving; obviously, she was letting him know she understood. If Angel had been on his knees before her, Lilah would have let herself be weak. It makes Lilah the better person this time around, giving her the power which she doesn’t deserve, having pushed the situation into this configuration.

Wes is tired of being the object in their power games. Whatever Lilah wants from Angel, he’s tired of being the body the war is conducted through. So he offered himself and his obedience to Angel as if he were still the faithful servant and Angel’s latent desire to own Wesley, body and soul, had risen to the surface as naturally as flames tend upward.

Now they are in the bedroom, Angel hovering like a dark ministering spirit in the doorway as Wes begins to look through the “toybox” as they’ve taken to calling it. An assortment of dildos, vibrators, whips and chains, gags (which they’ve never used), knives (which they have, and recently — had Angel smelled the blood?), paddles, and ah, yes. The cuffs. Ankle and wrist, leather with soft wool padding. Handcuffs and anything steel are Lilah’s style — she craves extremes. In fact, Wesley has never quite duplicated the reaction he earned when he had Lilah handcuffed to the bedpost and spent forty-five minutes alternating ice cubes and candle wax on her skin.

Angel, Wes is quite certain, prefers the classics. Leather. Whips. Chains. Giving orders. Getting obedience. Angel is easy to understand and manipulate, which is why Lilah’s been winning so far. She gets him, knows how to play Angel like a string quartet, and understands Wesley body, mind, and soul.

But Wes, for his part, is getting closer to understanding Lilah — and she’s not nearly as difficult to comprehend as she thinks she is.

The choice of paddle is challenging — does Angel really mean a paddle, or is he looking for a whip of some sort? Given that the cuffs are leather, a wooden paddle would make an attractive contrast but Angel does not seem the paddling type — or, more accurately, Angel wants to use the thing on Lilah, not Wesley, unless Wesley is very mistaken. He finally decides on a short black riding crop Lilah’s particular fond of, and pauses.

“Wesley?”

“I’m sorry, give me a minute. Supplies are rather in disarray,” he apologizes. “There’s, uh, lube in the table drawer. Condoms. All sorts of supplies.”

“Good to know,” Angel says with a hint of amusement in his voice.

In a sudden fit of whimsy, Wesley decides on a blindfold which is clearly a blue velvet scarf (they must have been watching that Lynch film) and emerges, setting the three items on the ground and standing, hands at sides, and watching Angel’s reaction.

Angel, for his part, has stripped out of his tuxedo and is standing in his shorts, looking relaxed and rather commanding as he examines the scarf, the crop, and the cuffs.

“Good,” he says, just loud enough to be heard in the living room. “Sit on the bed. Make yourself come.”

It’s a small opening gambit, and one Wesley hadn’t quite expected, but it allows Angel to sit down on the padded bench across from the bed and watch as Wesley puts his hand on his own cock and begins to jerk. Message received: Angel’s enjoyment is what matters and Wesley’s doesn’t, not right now.

Angel watches him. “Close your eyes,” he says. “Yes, like that. Now faster.”

Wesley knows how to follow orders, but Angel can’t stop him from hearing the floorboards creak as Lilah’s curiosity gets the better of her.

“Come to join us?” Angel asks.

“To watch,” Lilah replies and Wesley knows she’s seated herself in the corner, proud little smile on her lips as she does Angel one better.

“Don’t slow down,” Angel’s voice informs him. “That’s good. You’ve got such a nice mouth, Wes. I’ve always liked fucking it.”

Is he honestly going to try to taunt Lilah into submission with stupid boasts? Bloody Angel, Wesley thinks, close to coming anyhow. The thought of Angel getting rough, fucking him — well, he has wanted it, does want it, and enjoys the appreciative sounds Angel is making, the orders he’s giving.

“Rougher, Wes,” Angel says. “I don’t want to wait all night.”

Wes is rougher, imagining that the next time he’s close, they’ll both be touching him instead of watching while he can’t see either of them, can almost feel her body brushing against the front of him, perhaps straddling him as Angel has them both in his lap. He deserves as much, putting up with this damn childishness. Lilah wants Angel to hit her; she *always* has.

“Bloody–fuck, yes,” Wes says finally, hand sticky.

“Very good,” Angel says. “Open your eyes.”

Angel is holding the crop when Wesley opens his eyes. He’s finally naked and his cock is hard and aching before Wesley’s gaze.

Wes knows better than to speak. He hopes and prays Lilah does, too, but she hasn’t spoken, hasn’t even made a noise. Sometimes Wesley doesn’t understand her, because Angel is doing the things to Wesley’s body that he wants to do to Lilah’s, and she is refusing to allow it out of misplaced pride.

Everyone’s still afraid of her. In this walking death she has chosen in defiance of everyone and everything, she is more beautiful than she was alive, and more terrible. To admit that she was desolate in her powerful isolation wouldn’t cost her much and might…it just might…make Angel recognize the lost (though very dangerous) human being who has made herself so feared at a high and necessary price.

“I don’t need to use this on you, do I,” Angel says. It is not a question. “You’ll do what I say.”

“Yes, Angel,” he says, utterly submissive in his posture. And he will; there’s no question. Angel will enjoy it, as Angel enjoys dominating his people, but he’d enjoy it more if it were Lilah saying yes, no matter how much Angel wants to fuck Wesley and Wesley wants Angel to fuck him. The fascination of what’s difficult as compared to the simplicity of the obedient child who gives everything.

Angel sets the riding crop down and picks up the cuffs, tossing them to Wesley nonchalantly.

“Put these on,” he orders. Again, Wes obeys, flushes under Angel’s approving glance, and does not look at Lilah, who may win the game by refusing to play. But perhaps not. Angel has to know she won’t crack just because Wes is getting fucked. For all they know, she’d simply like to watch tonight. “Lay on the bed. Like that. Don’t say anything.”

Without further ado, Angel spreads Wesley out helplessly and shackles him to the bed, tightening the restraints as he sees fit. For a moment, there’s blind terror — the memory of a pillow smothering him rises out of the vasty deep — but then there is Angel’s mouth hard against his chest, kissing, licking, enjoying Wesley’s body while Wesley is helpless to do anything but whimper and moan as sensation overruns his nervous system.

“You’ve always been my favorite boy, Wes,” Angel says cruelly, pulling away and opening the drawer of the bedside table. “Nice cocksucking mouth, complete with blowjob lips, tasty scar, and oh, I’ve always had fun with the worship.”

Lilah won’t break over this. She may kill Angel for it, but then, Wes expects if anyone actually does, it’s destined to be her. But Wesley’s body isn’t paying attention to Wesley’s brain. It’s heating up because of Angel’s nasty diatribe, wriggling slightly as if to bring Angel’s attention back to it.

“Actually, it’s like having Dru back,” Angel says, returning to his methodical exploration of Wesley’s body, tonguing the scar expertly and sending another thrill down Wes’s spine. “She always did what Daddy wanted and Daddy took care of her better than anyone else.”

Wes can feel himself starting to struggle against the restraints. Angel is never to be underestimated, even if it leads to chronic overestimation, because he’s found the right key. Angel is placing a claim on Wesley that Lilah — who is clearly Spike in this little scenario — can never match. Daddy can always please his darling best, leaving the ardent lover to burn futilely for something that can never be hers.

He wants to tell her it’s not true, but he’s not sure himself if that would be a lie or not.

“Don’t move, Wes,” Angel says, placing one hand on his chest and forcing Wes to stop fighting. “You’ll hurt yourself. And Daddy wouldn’t want that.”

Lilah almost speaks at that, though Wesley can’t figure out why. It’s a fair comparison, and as Angel’s dark head drops to his stomach, fingers wrapping around Wesley’s hips to leave bruises (marks of ownership), Wes feels himself slipping further into Angel’s control, moaning at particularly painful or pleasurable touches. He almost misses Angel slicking him up, because Angel is claiming him because Wesley has been good enough at last.

He’s always wanted to be good enough for Angel and when Angel stretches him with one finger, two fingers, Wes doesn’t fight anymore. It doesn’t matter anymore if Angel is trying to prove a point to a silent and perverse Lilah; Wesley is going to get what he wants.

The first thrust makes him hard again. Angel’s eyes meet his; he smiles.

“You’d give me anything,” Angel murmurs quietly enough that Wesley can barely hear him.

Wesley aches to answer, wants to tell Angel a thousand things, but that’s against the rules and one must follow the rules in love and other indoor sports. And Angel is making it worth his while, hitting him in just the right spot with almost every thrust.

“You gave me your blood,” Angel says a little more loudly, driving into him again roughly. “You saved me when I would have killed you.”

Angel is talking for Lilah’s benefit, and Wesley is vaguely disappointed by that. It’s as he first thought — Angel can fuck Wesley a thousand times, take his blood as he seems to be threatening to, and it means nothing next to the prospect of having power over Lilah. Queen of Night, old dragon of the sea, and of course good sex, but Wesley imagines he’s not bad, either. Good enough to earn the attention Angel’s denied him again.

“Do you love me, Wesley?” Angel asks just before he comes, clearly aware that Wes is hard and straining, possibly intending to finish him after he finishes, but Wes doesn’t care. It’s all the same.

“Yes, Angel,” he says.

Angel’s teeth are sharp in his throat and when he bites down, Wesley shudders, jerks, and comes in that manifestly undignified order as Angel takes the everything that Wesley has given to him, making Wes’s head ache as he drifts further into this languor, this lost state that Angel can drive him into even when he thinks he’s risen above it.

“Stop it,” someone finally says, sharp and still awake. “Fangs out unless you want me to stake you.”

Lilah. At last, Lilah. Who loves him best and who always has. Wesley can see her standing there and she is, in fact, holding something wooden to Angel’s back. Ironic, then, that Angel still can’t compel her obedience except by hurting Wes, by appealing to the love he’ll never win from her.

Wes is weak compared to her. But Lilah has always loved him despite his unworthiness.

“Lilah,” Angel says, pulling away from Wesley as if he’s a discarded toy. Because he is. “Was there something?”

 

**Part Three: Lilah**

Blood is leaking from Wesley’s throat and Lilah can’t stand it anymore. There was more fun than expected in watching Wes submit to Angel like the not-so-closet bottom he is and in Angel proving that he’s very much Gay for Wes **and** Gay for Domination. But for Angel to sink his fangs into Wes to prove a fucking point that had nothing to do with Wes and everything to do with Angel’s desire to break Lilah…that wasn’t going to play.

“Stop it,” she repeats icily.

“Stop it?” Angel asks mildly, his face shifting back to the choirboy visage, but Lilah has Angel’s number, and one day she’ll kill him for this. “Why would I want to do that?”

“You’ll stop because you’re through with him,” Lilah says, folding her arms across her bare breasts. “Play your vamp domination games with someone who isn’t so easy.”

Angel smirks at her with her very own smirk and undoes Wesley’s wrist restraints. As a dazed Wes falls limply against the mattress and Lilah undoes his ankle cuffs and rubs the chafed skin, she glowers at Angel, hating him while they both bring Wes down. Love him best, her ass. Angel assumes everyone loves him and doesn’t bother to reciprocate, and Wes needs that reciprocation, so certain is he of his own unworthiness.

Lilah, who’s unworthy in so many ways, loves whom she chooses to love and does not care. It makes her stronger than Angel because she has no standards when it comes to love. She died for Wes, in her way, and she’ll kill for him. Without question.

“You okay?” Lilah asks Wes softly, ignoring Angel’s smug gloating presence.

“I’ll be fine,” he tells her, dizzily getting to his feet. “But I think I’ll sit down in this chair here while you two have at it. If you don’t mind.”

“I didn’t know he’d bite you,” she says feverishly. “Wes…please…”

Angel’s derisive laughter is a low and vicious blow to the gut wound. “Oh, you’re **gone** , aren’t you?” he asks with the faintest hint of his Irish accent. “If only Wes could love you the way he loves me.”

“Shut up, you bastard,” Lilah hisses, letting go of Wesley and turning to Angel, rage boiling in her stomach. “But as for **this**. You want me to break, don’t you? Beg for you?”

Angel lays a cold hand against the small of her back. Lilah expects to take a header into the wrought-iron bedpost, because Angel’s always been a violent bully when it comes to her, and he’s just stupid enough to forget about her head.

Instead he doesn’t move at all.

“If I thought it would work, I’d order you to play submissive,” he says. “I have **no**  doubt you know how to drop to your knees and suck the boss off, Lilah. And I’m sure any man stupid enough to ask is dead.”

Lilah shudders. She’s not really afraid of Angel; he’s a talker and a hypocrite. Besides, he’s always wanted to fuck her as much as she’s wanted to fuck him.

“Wrap your hands around the bedpost,” he murmurs into her ear, his fingers walking up and down the spine. Lilah does it, locking her fingers for good measure. If he’s going to play stupid after knowing better, well…that’s the essence of Angel in a nutshell.

The first impact of the riding crop on her ass stings like hell. Lilah, not having expected the blow, yelps before biting her lips until she brings blood.

“Did that hurt?” Angel asks, running the tip of the crop over the insides of her thighs. She spreads them a little further and rolls her eyes.

“Get fucked,” Lilah replies. The crop falls against the tops of her thighs now, but she won’t squeak. High heels, seamed stockings, riding crop. Must be quite a visual treat for Angel — and Wes, if he hasn’t passed out by now.

“Already have,” Angel says, giving her a third, harder stroke. When she doesn’t flinch, he gives her a fourth, and then a fifth. “I can keep this up all night, Lilah. If you’d just give a little, we can get past the pre-show and into the main event.”

Angel can keep going all week if he thinks for a second he’s going to talk her into surrendering an inch this way.

“What do you want?” Lilah asks. “You take everything from me, Angel. And I don’t love you for it like they do. Like **he**  did even when he hated you and wanted to die.”

Reminding Angel of Connor is like setting a match to gasoline, but Lilah has always been a secret nihilist pyromaniac who wants to watch the world burn.

She gets her wish. The riding crop falls to the ground with a surprising clatter, and Lilah can suddenly feel Angel’s hands on her ass, yanking off the nylons and shredding them all to motherfuck. Then Angel kicks her feet out from under her and she falls, bruised ass hitting sharp heel. She cries out again in pain, but recovers fast.

“Nice,” Lilah says brightly. “Hit me, baby, one more time.”

And then he’s on top of her, cock already hard again, pressing his hand against her throat just long enough to remember she’s wearing a fucking cross.

“I could always go back to Wes,” he threatens, pulling his singed hand away from the choker before yanking it off and sending the cross skittering across the hardwood floor. “But you don’t want that, do you, Lilah? You don’t much know what you want, but you want me to do it to you…”

His hand is against her throat again, squeezing as he forces her knees open with one of his thighs, watching her eyes and listening to her breathing. And Lilah hates him more than anything, but when she squeezes and she gasps with something other than pain, she knows he knows.

“What do you want, Lilah?” he asks her, mocking her earlier question.

“I want this to be over,” Lilah growls, near tears but not for the reasons Angel will think. “Fuck me and choke me until it gets those rocks off. That’s what you want, isn’t it?”

He laughs, pinning her arms to the floor by the elbows and kissing her crudely on the mouth, thrusting his tongue into her mouth until she relents and kisses back.

“That’s what you want,” Angel says, lips trembling near her ear. “But not what I want. Don’t think I don’t know your game, Lilah.”

“You don’t know anything,” she says, trembling.

“Throat fetish,” he points out, letting his tongue trace the beheading scar slowly. “Possibly breathplay, though I’m not sure if that’s still viable. Add in a submissive streak everyone knows about even though you try to hide it, and I think I’ve got the majors.”

“Don’t forget extremes,” Wesley adds helpfully from his vantage point.

“Shut up, Wes,” she calls out to him. “So you’re right. So what?”

Angel lets go of one of Lilah’s arms and starts stroking her face and neck gently like the creepy bastard he is.

“So we’ve never considered the me in your equation,” he says. “I think that’s a grave miscalculation.”

“Historically, this is the part where I tell you I don’t care,” she says. “And…that feels about right.”

He touches the tip of her nose with his forefinger, looking at her as though he’s seeing her instead of the Archnemesis.

“You make me crazy,” Angel says, leaning down to her earlobe and bringing it into his mouth. He’s ever-so-slowly rubbing his thumbs over her hipbones and Lilah doesn’t understand. She makes him crazy? Good. He makes her murderously angry. Yay for both of them.

Angel moves his circles upward and outward, moving closer to her navel, down toward her clit and then back to her hips. He keeps looking into her eyes as if he’s trying to find something. Her soul, maybe? It’s discomforting to be in a relatively uncomfortable vanilla position with Angel hard against Lilah’s thigh and his lips halfway parted. Lilah can see the tip of his tongue and she doesn’t like this at all.

“Angel, please,” she says.

“It makes you so uncomfortable to have someone actually play nice,” he marvels, kissing her collarbone and sliding his thumbs up to just under her breasts, teasing and massaging the skin. “What would you do if…?”

Angel lets go of Lilah just long enough to pick her up and set her on the bed like she was something to be savored. This is freaksome enough to get Lilah kicking and squirming before he sets her down on the mattress and looks toward the chair.

“Wes,” he says in that dangerous voice of his. And no. Hell no.

“No way,” Lilah says. “Not playing this. I’m done, I’m out, screw you both so hard.”

“Stay. Down,” Wesley growls at her and Angel goes back to looking at her with the creepy stalker expression. Why does everyone want to make her sit down and shut up? “You don’t win this one by being difficult.”

“Gonna make me behave?” Lilah challenges him, glaring around Angel’s paunch. “Come on, Wes. Do what Daddy wants and shut the bitch up.”

“Stop fighting me,” Angel says, dark puppy eyes fixed on her. God help her, he’s being sincere. “Not everything’s a battle.”

Then he kisses her, a slow, lingering kind of kiss that would have knocked the breath right out of her when big guys like Angel were her thing, back in high school when Lilah thought big shoulders were the sexiest things a man could have.

“We’re enemies, remember?” she asks, looking up and feeling confused because Angel and kissing and sweetness? Not in the game plan. “By definition, we do things a certain way.”

Angel smiles, and this has got to be a trap, because no one’s ever nice to the big bad bitch without an ulterior motive, and certainly not these two. Lilah shivers, scared to death but not about to say so.

“How about this?” Angel murmurs into her ear. “To hell with the definitions. It’s a truce in which I admit that the idea of fucking you and Wes at the same time pushes all my buttons. And where you let someone get under that perfect exterior and make it good for you.”

“It’s risky,” Lilah says, stretching out and arching her back before putting one leg over Angel’s shoulder. “Lots of broken rules.”

Angel kisses her instep and massages her very sore calf while Wesley props her up into a sitting position and goes to work on her neck and shoulders, occasionally kissing the nape of her neck while Lilah tries not to squirm and scream from the impending dread twisting in her stomach.

“The other way’s dull,” Wesley says. “All those predictable games…hate sex, blistering resentment, petty revenge? It’s all rather cliche, darling.”

He kisses the spot just under her ear at the same time Angel starts work on her thigh and Lilah moans, to Angel’s apparent delight. Who would have ever imagined Angel liked playing attentive? Bur he does; he gets this little happy grin on his face and redoubles his efforts on the knots and okay, vampire massage is the best. Muscle aches Lilah pays professionals a hundred fifty an hour to get rid of are being eased away with no effort at all.

“Oh, that’s…” she says breathlessly because Wes is so perfectly warm against her back and he’s starting to nibble at that place at the base of her neck while Angel creeps a little closer. “I like it.”

“Good,” Angel says, and it occurs to Lilah that she must look like a cat getting petted into submission, her eyelids fluttering while Angel takes her other foot and starts to lavish it with attention. “Do you smile like that for Wes all the time?”

“When I’m happy,” Lilah says drowsily, stretching her arms so that she can try to touch Wes, who keeps doing these extraordinarily things to her spine, neck, and collarbone without using his hands. “I trust him. Not you. You always look like you’re going to pounce and there I go, breaking rules about breaking rules.”

“Would it be terrible if I pounced?” Angel inquires, kissing her ankle.

“I don’t know,” Lilah replies, letting Wes twine his hands around hers and move them over her breasts. “You’re pretty damn sexy when I’m getting treated like this. I think maybe I wouldn’t mind if I wasn’t anticipating the pouncing.”

Fast as a blink, Wesley’s hands have broken free and are drifting across her eyelids. “You mean like so?” he asks, and before Lilah can ask, the scarf is being dragged over her face. Then there’s nothing. No sight and Wes holding onto her so tight he might as well be handcuffs.

Lilah whimpers nervously, but it’s Wes, she’s tough, and her whole body perks up to be suddenly deprived of one sense. Everything feels just that much more real…

Including the feel of Angel’s tongue on her stomach as Wesley grips her hands in his again comfortingly. “Mother…of God,” Lilah says. “I…”

“Shhh,” Wes assures her. “Just relax.”

“I have serious trust issues, a blindfold, and a vampire about six inches away from my pussy,” Lilah replies in a quavering voice. “You relax for me.”

“Trust me,” Wesley says again and Angel, who doesn’t breathe, is blowing on her inner thigh. Lilah whimpers, trembles, and cries out when Angel’s finger finds it way inside of her roughly.

In. Out. Now two, and Lilah’s eyes are shut for her, imagining the looks on their faces. Smug? Horny? God, she’s freaked out, but Angel’s being so methodically attentive that she can’t help reacting with the gasps and moans of the well-pleasured, especially not with the first flicker of his tongue across her clit.

“I want to see,” Lilah whispers, trying to get free of Wes, but she never can. He’s caught her good and now Angel is going to fuck her the way she’s always deserved while Wesley pets and comforts her. “Please?”

“Trust me,” Wesley says again, putting their hands on Angel’s shoulders. Angel chuckles and Lilah thinks she’ll have an orgasm now, thank you VERY much, before whatever clever twist Angel has in his pointy head…

“Cold!” Lilah shrieks, kicking. “Oh my GOD, that’s cold! That doesn’t mean stop, Angel.”

Wesley laughs at this. “Is it that difficult to trust me?” he asks, his breath tickling the hairs on the back of her neck while Angel continues the treatment with the very cold metal (or is it an ice cube? She doesn’t think they had any) and increasingly warm fingers that makes Lilah’s whole body start to shiver.

“Maybe,” Lilah admits but she just isn’t sure she cares anymore because she’s gonna come, and Wes is kissing her neck again and maybe she wants to get fucked now, even if she doesn’t trust either of them and maybe…oh, fuck yes. “Right there. Right there there right fucking there!”

Wes is breathing harder and she can hear him lick his lips when she comes shortly after. He likes to watch, and the ragged intake of breathing makes Lilah that much more turned on, too. She leans further into him, pulling his hand downward, toward where Angel’s head must be. He gets the idea and yeah. This is okay; she’s doing what they want. Getting into it.

“More,” she says, suddenly glad they can’t see the scheming in her eyes. “Please, Angel…”

Angel groans, casts the toys away (something lands with a thump on the floor) and oh, someone’s been waiting to move up her body, run sticky fingers over her torso and fit himself between her thighs (she hopes they don’t crush Wes) and then just thrust…

Lilah wraps her legs around Angel’s waist and wails for everyone’s benefit. It’s so easy, the way they’ve both promised. Moan and say “oh my God, Angel, oh my God, that’s so good” and he just buries himself deeper in her, and what Angel lacks in technique, he makes up for in size and willingness to please. And Wes — fuck yes, Wes with the touching and nibbling in all the sweet spots, knowing just where to add a little tooth so that Lilah convulses, just in case Angel’s not quite good enough, because Wesley likes to watch.

She’s got them both now and it feels good, giving orders in the form of begging, trembling like a leaf and being rewarded with harder, deeper thrusts and Wesley’s attentive fingers circling her nipples, his tongue tracing the delicate curves of her ear as she scratches up Angel’s back. Mmm, God. Nothing’s felt this good since Wesley tied her up and used candle wax. Maybe Angel would do that if she asked him nicely and then used something holy to flog him. That would be fucking amazing.

Lilah screams — a genuine scream — when she comes again, and Angel comes right afterwards, growling. Wes grunts because they’re probably too heavy, but he doesn’t say anything to spoil the moment. Lilah appreciates that.

Not too long after that, the blindfold is carefully, gently removed by Angel, who presses a kiss into her forehead like he cares. For all Lilah knows, he might because now he thinks he has unlocked the mystery that is Lilah Morgan. Just give the scared girl child a little pampering and she opens like a flower. Maybe it’s even true.

She smiles at him, throws a sloppy arm over his back and kisses his shoulder. “That was amazing,” she says into his upper arm, smiling. “We need to do it again sometime.”

“I have no problem with that,” Angel says.

Lilah laughs, but not for the reason either Wes or Angel thinks. Some days, it’s good to be her. And if that means she plays Darla to their Angelus and Dru? There’s nothing wrong with that, either.

 


End file.
